Wednesday, March 30, 2011

We won!!!!

We are in World cup final!!!!!

India beat Pakistan in semi finals, qualifying for the final. It’s a great achievement indeed. India conquered over Pakistan 5th time (Every time) in World cup (Sachin Tendulkar is savouring this victory since 21 years and in 6 consecutive World Cups). Sachin Tendulkar won the Man of the Match award.  

Indian players played really well though the pitch did not seem very supportive. No doubt Pakistan fought well but eventually the ball is in our court. We are just one step behind the final destination. Indian team is going to appear in final for the third time.

India will meet Srilanka in final on 2nd April. For the first time, two Asian team will be combating in the Cricket World cup final. We wish our Indian team all the best and we hope that this time the victory will be repeated after 28 long years and the much awaited glorious trophy will be ours.

Thursday, March 24, 2011


The entire aura was surreal and isolated. Shrouded with mist. Maya found herself sitting on a swing. How did she come here? She didn’t know. She surveyed herself. Her eyes widened in astonishment. She wore a beautiful silken gown, identical to her dream dress. It was like a feather touch. Her hair neatly done tucked with pearls. Glittering butterflies dangled around. The ambience was mesmerizing no doubt, but solitude crept inside her. No one was around. Her heart trembled.

Suddenly, a vague figure appeared in the mist. As it approached closer it became clearer. A tall handsome man wearing a white suit was standing in front of her. His smile was divine which formed a cute dimple. Her heart fluttered. It was like a love at first sight for her. His eyes were gleaming with admiration. “Is this admiration for her? Has he arrived for her? Will he take her to the world of fantasy? Will he love her from all her heart? She wondered.
He came closer. His smile grew broader. Her heart raced faster.

“Maya,” His deep masculine voice whispered her name. His voice was filled with affection. She parted her lips to say something but her tongue seemed tied.

“Maya,” The voice became deeper. Suddenly, it became louder. Harsh.

Her eyes flew open. Her mother was shaking her.

“Get up Maya; otherwise you’ll be late for the office.

Her dream was shattered once again. She got up feebly. She looked at the mirror in front of her bed. Dark complexion. Scrawny physique. Hair carelessly resting at her back. No silken gown but a worn out night dress. Bitterness churned inside.  She looked around to her grungy house. Her younger brother was getting ready for school. Her younger sister might be busy in the kitchen. Her mother’s constant coughing bothered her.

Her aging mother and her siblings, she held the entire responsibility on her weak shoulder. She had to, due to the untimely demise of her father. She was helpless in that deplorable circumstances.
In office, beautiful girls bloomed like blossom and guys revolved around them like bumble-bees.  No one gave a damn to her existence. “Is external prettiness is every thing? Is inner beauty is nothing? Why can't anyone see the beauty of her heart? Why Can't she weave a dream?” Too many thoughts volleyed in her mind.

Pain masked her face. She trudged towards the bathroom. She has to perform her dual task of office and home. She can’t shirk her responsibilities for her personal pleasures or agony.

Prompt@:   Thursday Tales
                     Three Word Wednesday (Dual, Identical and Volley)

Monday, March 21, 2011


    Bitterness immersed all over her persona,
    She was going through a trauma.
    She was feeling like deceived,
    In love, the punishment she received.
    The man she trusted the most,
    The reliance today, she lost.
    He came out as a bundle of lies,
    Brought an ocean of tears in her eyes.
    She loved him from the heart,
    Never thought, they’ll ever depart.
    Like a fool, she set her emotions free,
    For him, it was just a spree.
    He misrepresented his feeling,
    Considered her a poor maudlin.
    She was thwarted by his deceitful act,
    Oh! His mendacious love…
    … was an effect of a stupid bet.

Prompt@:   Jingle Poetry
Also submitted to: Sunday Scribbling

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Trial is the best policy

                       Image prompt@: Thursday Tales

She sat in front of the computer screen, staring glumly at the mail she had received today. “I regret to inform you that your story ‘Home’ has not been selected.” It read.

 Some Rejections disheartened her immensely. “What’s wrong?” She wondered. After pondering for a moment, gradually, shades of determination appeared at her face. “Trial is the best policy. One should never give up. Hard work always pays.” Once her teacher told this in the class. A weak but hopeful smile formed on her lips.

“I am not going to give up. I won’t accept defeat easily. I’ll take this rejection positively. I’ll find out my drawbacks. I'll work hard. I’ll try until my creations get selected. This is not the end but it is the beginning of a new story.” She thought resolutely. Her face beaming with confidence. Her heart brimming with a new hope. Her time will come with flying colours.

                 :    Thursday Tales

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

I wonder!

Image from Google

Sky suffused with roseate hues
Flock of birds creating nice views
Mellow breeze tickling curls
Bevies of chuckling girls
All these pleasing things
Enhance the charm of evening
But, I wonder!
The charisma of dusk,
Never fascinates me.

It reminds me of memories, 
Mirth and melody 
... that I miss                                  

It permeates my visage with gloom
Never allows my heart to bloom
It makes me feel a void within me,
Recall the dreams, now I could not see.
I wonder…
The charisma of dusk,
Never fascinates me.

Submitted to: 3WW  
                           (Breeze, Mellow and Tickle)
Shared@ Poets United

Xcess Baggage: By Varsha Dixit

Today I’ve completed the novel “Xcess Baggage” by Varsha Dixit. (I don’t like misspelled words.)

But I liked this novel! It’s very engrossing especially in the second half. Maybe because this is the genre of my interest.

It is a love story, a romantic thriller. A different kind of. A very mild and untold love story. This is the story of Meghana Chandra, a 23 years old Indian girl who lives in U.S away from her family. She falls in love with Byron, a lethally handsome, smart and intelligent man; not man actually, a hybrid of Vampire and Werewolf.  Ironically, Byron wants to kill Meghana to get rid of the curse of immortality as some “Rusalka” resides in the her body (It is very impractical indeed, a myth, but if you try to search logic and practicality in Vampire and ghost novels then it would be, I think, impractical.)
Since the novel is written in the first person, it is quite obvious that the protagonist would be saved. But how? It is interesting to find out.

Meghana was kidnapped by Byron who plans to kill her on her 23rd birthday for above mentioned reasons. It was heartbreaking for Meghna as she feels deeply for him. But just before her death (Murder) she was saved by someone. Later she came to know that her escape was planned by none other than Byron. Also he made her safe from vampires and werewolves for her lifetime. Then she realized that he also felt something, something deep for her, despite being so neutral, inexpressive and distant. But, now there was no way to get back to him.

I liked the character of Byron very much. Also Meghna is a very interesting character, fearless and innocent.

The scenes and encounter between Byron and Meghna is the best part of the novel. The end surely evokes pain. The writing style of the author and dialogues are interesting.

The only thing I felt unsuitable that the author has revealed the identity and motive of Byron at the very early stage (In his first entry). According to me, it could have been done a bit later. There’s definitely a vast scope for its sequel.

Overall for me, it was an interesting and absorbing tale.

Monday, March 14, 2011


That was her dad’s birthday,
Due to some business reasons…
…he was away.
He got a contract of construction,
For which he needed deforestation.
Mini heard and felt pity,
As trees was the glory of the city.
Trees are vital for environment,
It makes the atmosphere pleasant.
Her teacher taught this in science lesson,
Now it was time to take action.
Mini decided to decorate her home,
But this time in a different form.
She brought some small pots of flowers,
Arrayed it all over and it took her hours.
Finally, she hung the last one at the door,
Ah! It was looking nice, she adored.
She tucked a note in it which read:
“Happy birthday and welcome home dad.
Please don’t cut the trees as…
…they’re beauty of nature.
It will make the environment clean and…
…freshen up our future.”

Written for: Monday's Child
                         Magpie Tales
Shared @       Sunday Scribblings

Friday, March 11, 2011

Two more creations have published!!

An article: "Beat the Anger" based on child spanking is published in Alive Magazine.

A poem: "The Onion!" On hiked price of Onion in India is published in Woman’s Era magazine.

To read them click Here


Wandering flicker of happiness
Obscure strings of smile
Winks at a withered life

Written for: Acrostic Only


The house was old and stranded. The area was surrounded by huge trees of Banyan, Neem and Peepal. The main town was far from the house. No immediate neighbors. Myra wondered how she was going to manage without Vivan in the scary night at that isolated place. The house was too big for just two but Vivan was fond of large spacious houses. When he got an offer in such a low price in growing inflation, he did not even think to grab it.  She was though apprehensive about buying this deserted house.

She was inspecting the kitchen when a loud screech doubled her heartbeat. Huh! It was the truck laden with her household stuffs.

Days rolled on. Sometimes she felt as if the air was whispering something in her ear. Sometimes as if someone was breathing hard. Sometimes she felt a strange kind of smell suffused all over. Maybe it was her illusion, but a bizarre fear kept haunting her.

“Vivan I don’t feel good in this house.”

“Why Myra? This house is so good. Where can anyone get such a big house in this price?” Vivan said carelessly without distracting his glance from his laptop.

“Exactly! There must be something wrong. Why would anyone sell such a grand house so cheap?”

“Because the man was in the need of money.” He said bluntly.

“I feel someone else exists in this…”

“What rubbish are you talking Myra? You’re an intellectual, educated woman, and please stay away from these frivolous and orthodox thoughts.” He chided irritably. After a brief pause he continued “I think your idleness is killing your conscience. I’ll get you some good books.” He caressed her face and got busy in his laptop.

Vivan had gone for his official tour. He arranged a maid, Shanti, to help and accompany Myra. After two days, Shanti regretted for her inability to stay there at night as her son was sick. Myra was left with no option.

As the dusk enveloped the earth, Myra grew restless. Howling wind, and the dainty wind chime clinking at regular intervals gave her inexplicable scare. The eerie stillness of the night made her sick. She set down the wind chime on the table and closed the windows and doors. Both appetite and sleep eluded her. She pressed her eyes closed and tried to sleep.


Her eyes flew open. She felt as if her mother was calling her. The voice seemed to come from the road. Fear was peeling her heart.

“Myra,” Now the voice sounded prominent.

She was her mother and she was calling her. But how could she come to this place at this wee hour? Myra thought and her heart raced faster. She felt tantalized to approach the door and look, but scare trapped both her body and mind.

“Myra, come to me.” The voice grew intense and painful and clearer, as if she was standing outside her window.

Yes its ma. She is in pain. She thought. Suddenly, Myra rose to her feet and proceeded towards the door hypnotically.

The next day dawned bright and clear. The phone was blaring. No answer.

Somewhere near Myra’s house a woman was lying unconscious on the roadside. The crowd was hovering around her. Suddenly, Shanti appeared splitting the crowd and gaped, putting her hand on her mouth.

“This is Myra memsahib. But how?"

Submitted to: Thursday Tales

Monday, March 7, 2011

A child!

                   Eyes filled with eternal dreams,
                   Forming so many ambitions.
                   Innocent heart
                   Brimming with raw emotions.
                   A child is a figure of honesty.

                   Stubborn act, bolshie’s mood
                   It’s easy, for them, to get vexed.
                   Gleaming tears in a moment
                   And an enchanting smile in next.
                   A child is a figure of volatility

                   Excitement in every bits and pieces,
                   Expressive eyes widens in surprises.
                   All the fears of darkness dashes away
                   With the thrilling bedtime stories.
                   A child is a figure of curiosity.

                 Written for Monday's Child
                                    Sunday Scribblings

Friday, March 4, 2011

A thing beyond forever: By Novoneel chakraborty

Today I finished the novel “A thing beyond forever” by Novoneel chakraborty.

The story is very impractical. Most of the story proceeds in flash back as Dr. Radhika Sharma reads the personal diary (Instantly in the hospital, taking out of her bag) of Raen Verma; with whom she fell in love 15 years back in her school days. (Keeping a 15 years old diary in a regular bag, for a doctor, when later she says that she hasn’t seen Raen’s photo in many years is a bit impractical).

Radhika Sharma (Later a doctor) loves Raen Verma. Raen Verma loves another girl Savera. Savera doesn’t love Raen. After two rejections, when Radhika proposed him, he accepts. He says he loves Radhika but his mind keeps thinking about Savera.

Fifteen years later, she met one of her patients Laye a nine years old boy (Who later discovered as Savera’s son). After some coincidences, she suspects and finally realises that he is the reincarnation of Raen which is again impractical. But, the process of realization (How she connects the strings of discovery of rebirth of Raen as Laye) is written in a very interesting manner and it’s really engrossing. But the end again is impractical that is Radhika’s reincarnation (Huh!).

She loved Raen and he came back as Laye then why she committed suicide come to that after such a long time span? Whom did she talk at the time of her death if Raen’s soul has found another body of Laye? Though true love of Radhika is clearly reflected but for a doctor, committing suicide after 15 years, after meeting little Raen is a bit depressing and again somewhat unreasonable.

As the story advances in diary form, so many unnecessary and insignificant things fill the pages. Author has used some nice lines and expressed the feeling and excitement of an 11 Std. boy very well. He fairly managed to evoke pain of Raen’s death (But what about Raen’s parents who’s one son is disabled and away from them in an institute and one has gone forever?).

The point of view of the story keeps fluctuating. If the author has written this novel in multiple points of view, then I don’t understand what was the purpose of writing the entire novel in dairy form?

Over all for me, this novel is not a delightful read for sure but can be a time pass.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Super excitement!

Two cricket teams were vying to register the triumph and to hold the glorious World Cup. That was a neck to neck performance. Despite scoring a prestigious score, team ‘A’ had to fight hard. Team ‘B’ was chasing that quite competently.

Mr. ‘J’, who had a great affinity for cricket since 35 years, was praying like any other supporter of Team ‘A’ for the victory. His heart was beating fast.

Just one ball was left and Team ‘B’ had to score just 2 runs to win. The bowler was ready to deliver the last ball. That had to be the best, so that Team ‘B’ could be stopped at the dot.

The excitement was at the optimum level. People were fidgeting restlessly. Hearts were doing hip-hop. The ball was delivered and the batsman stroked it.
Some though team ‘A’ won. Some guessed team ‘B’ was the winner. Everyone rose on the feet and eagerness struck their hearts. But, the batsman managed to take just a single and the match resulted in a tie.

For both the teams, the match was saved by the bell! No need to mention, feeling of regret mingled with relief.

But hey! Mr. ‘J’ found fainted on the couch.

After half an hour, the doctor said – “He is no more. He had a massive heart attack!”

(Do control your super excitement try to tackle every situation with a cool mind. Many people have suffered due to unfettered excitement.)

 Written for:     3WW  (Affinity, Fidget and Mention)
                            Carry on Tuesday        


Magic of Dreams

The magic of dreams
Shows a way to the hypnotic
World of Fantasy.

Brings a measure of quiet
To a disturbed mind
Trying to perk it up.

Prompt@: Sensational Haiku (Fantasy)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

A Teacher

Who is a teacher?

A teacher is a respectable person who, apart from instilling good values, teaches to learn and write. A teacher is supposed to check the behaviour and mistakes of a student.

Today I was casually looking at the English notebook of a girl. The notebook was thoroughly checked with the signature of the teacher in red ink.

What does a checked notebook means?

It definitely means that the teacher has checked all the mistakes. A teacher’s signature says that all the contents are correct and now the student is likely to learn the correct answers.  As the TEACHER IS ALWAYS RIGHT!

But to my great surprise and disappointment, there were too many spelling mistakes in the copy. Some misspelled words denoted meaningless word and the girl was learning wrong things. I wondered what a teacher is for. I’m afraid; such teachers might be playing with the future of many students while correcting the answer sheets in exams.

Being a teacher is not just a duty but a very important responsibility. A very responsible job. I think a teacher should be very careful and should (despite large number of students in schools especially) check the notebooks very carefully as this is related to the future of children and for this exactly, a large number of teachers are being paid.

Shared @ One Single Impression